In a bustling town, filled with carriage drivers, there's a looming darkness that permitted among the denizens that called the town their home due to a rash of deaths that seemingly happened only at night that sent the denizens in a frenzy.
To be sure, death was par course, disagreements that get violent, and other, that's part of being a seafaring town with several ports, several boats that shore hourly, always a risk when fishermen become disgruntled enough to seek harm against their captains.
These deaths were different, macabre, enough that there's fears of an animal, potentially a pack, lurking in the town, preying on anyone, killing seemingly on a whim, and escaping into the shadows of the night.
Even the seasoned seamen grew terrified of the night, arming themselves with whatever they had on hand, afraid of becoming the next victim.
Worse, some of the victims were men fully capable of defending themselves, but somehow overtaken and mauled to death.
Torn apart like paper, bled out into the cobbled ground, sometimes police found them with their entrails laid out for all to see, other times, they weren't there, at all.
Leaving only emptied chest cavities.
A swift change in the animal life that lived alongside the humans, strays gone missing, found later in pieces, if that, guard dogs refusing to go out at night, willing to lash out against their owners than being outside.
Most disturbingly, the wildlife that lived alongside the humans since the early years when the town was a mere village, have seemingly disappeared, fleeing from whatever evils lurked in the town, and replaced by a flock of unusually large ravens.
Hunters were paid handsomely to go after this wicked animal, taking different routes around the town, looking for it, hoping to catch it by surprise, but they haven't found the culprits.
It only gotten worse since the initial deaths, with the next set of deaths happening in homes, one of them a judge, slain in his bedroom, his heart gone.
During their search, police found proof of evidence that animals were indeed the culprit behind the deaths, not blood thirsty men, but of an unusual variety, large blooded bird-like prints in one of the victim's rooms were found after police cleared the area, a policeman hedged roughly six involved in the killing of a little girl.
Tore her apart for her kidneys, left everything behind.
The killing stirred the other family members, but they were no match against the animals, the father got it worse, he died wielding his rifle, attempting to shoot at them, but died within seconds of them reaching him.
His wife was found in a linen closet, apparently attempting to flee them, her face blackened, her eyes wide, having died of the plague, still clutching her bleeding wrist, large gashes tearing out the veins.
Upon discovery, her body was quickly burnt, preventing the possible spread, further causing discourse among the denizens.
Fear drenched the town, that families fled, fearing they'll be next.
The bustling town dwindled until only a murmur, with only those remaining whom had obligations that they couldn't abstain, or those surly enough they didn't care about the deaths.
Hunters roamed the streets, desperate to find the strange birds killing people, almost out of random, with the medical examiners rough estimates, they're looking at birds the size of men, something that's impossible, more that there's birds actively roaming at night.
Police scoured for witnesses who might've seen these birds, but nobody came forward, no one that they haven't found gored on the streets.
Only when they saw a familiar bird perched at the top of a signpost, did they give the murderous birds that stalked the night their moniker, the Ravens of Baltimore.
No one seen them, no one that lived long enough to tell, and already there's warning posters printed everywhere warning those who stayed in the town of the Ravens' omnipresence.
Walking along the once bustling street, a man held a piece of parchment paper, muttering to himself, his eyes narrowed on the inscription, as he walked along Printer's Alley.
On his mind, the man thought about the bet he made with the bartender, that if he got someone who could rid Baltimore of the Ravens, the bartender would gift him free drinks for the rest of his eternal life and then some.
The Ravens made businesses languish, even the staunchest of people that the bartender knew and relied on given up their drink rather than risk running into the Ravens.
Opening earlier seemed to help, but the depleting customers risked dooming the bartender, so much he strikes a bet with one of his regulars, a struggling writer who goes by the name of Edgar Allan Poe.
Edgar ran up a dreadful tab from his constant drinking, that the bartender wanted to close out the tab for good, get the money from Edgar to recoup the losses caused by the Ravens.
Unfortunately, the writer wasn't made by publishers, yet, and didn't have the money to pay for his exorbitant bill due to his drinking, that Edgar attempted to buy time any means necessary, until he made the bold proclamation that he'll find the person that'll finally put a stop to the Ravens tormenting Baltimore.
The terms were self-explanatory, if Edgar failed to fulfill his promise within a reasonable time, then the bartender will have him dealt with in a short amount of time, even though the town's in a rut because of the Ravens, he still had paid people on the side willing to deal with patrons indebted to him.
Like a noose, the threat loomed over Edgar, that he prayed that this man he contacted, the Doctor, would be his answer.
A lofty wish, he knows, but he didn't know where else to turn, there isn't anyone in the town he could rely that wouldn't turn on him, and well, he didn't have anyone outside Baltimore that he could've contacted.
Muttering to himself, the aspiring writer continued his walk, until he stopped as he looked up at the building beside him, seeing it matching the inscription he wrote on the parchment paper.
It's a bookstore, something Edgar's acutely aware, having tried selling his books to several, but none ever went further than the back of the store before tossed, as no one wanted them, and the bookstore owners stated they only have finite spaces in their stores.
Entering it, Edgar smelled the familiar smell of bind pages, the old book smells, the lingering smoke from the bookstore owner's pipe, sitting on the counter next to the register, still warm to the touch.
His chestnut hazel eyes slowly moving, Edgar took steps forward, no one in the bookstore except him, the bookstore owner's probably in the back, since the Ravens came, business slacked.
Checking the parchment paper in his hands, Edgar murmured as he reread his own handwriting, before following the directions towards the fiction section.
Coming around the corner, he found the bookstore owner having a chat with two people, one a man done up in unusual clothes, dark ivy green long coat, brown sleeveless vest, creamy-colored dress shirt underneath, dark brown pants, and short chestnut hair with curls at the end.
The other, a woman, with striking red hair, with bits of blond strewn among it, her emerald eyes glistening under the light, her light brown leather duster shimmering alongside a necklace with a burnt-orange centerpiece, as she held the man's arm, smiling as she listened to the bookstore owner.
"Aye, it's a miracle I have any hair left!" The bookstore owner chortled before he left the two to peruse his books, returning to the front of the bookstore.
The two people didn't see Edgar walking up to them, when he got his attention, it's almost instantly he saw the two seemingly recognizing him.
"Ah, Mr. Poe!" He heard the man as he stepped forward, holding out his hand to shake his.
Shaking his hands, the curious Edgar looked between the two, asking who they are, and elated when he heard the man refer to himself as the Doctor.
"Thank God! I didn't know what else to do!" Edgar sucked air through his teeth as he relayed his fears that this was a farce, a chance for someone to kidnap him, or worse.
A knowing look in those blue eyes of his, the man warns Edgar, "Next time, Mr. Poe, you'll do well not to make promises you may not be able to keep, hm?"
Earnestly nodding, his short dark blonde hair bobbing, Edgar promised that after this, he won't make another outlandish promise for as long as he lives.
"Excellent, now, would you mind telling me more about this problem Baltimore's having?" the Doctor asks him.
